My chest tightens at the sight of the massive bouquet. Even from here, I can smell their floral perfume beckoning me toward them as I move closer. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for the small card nestled among the crimson blooms, their petals like velvet.
Thank you for a perfect weekend. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. Here’s to hoping I’m lucky enough to get thousands more. Love, Ethan.
My stomach twists into a tight knot. The roses are stunning, the gesture thoughtful, the words sweet—everything a girl should want. Yet while Ethan was ordering these flowers, thinking of me and our future, my heart was racing over my best friend.
God, I’m awful.
I press the card to my chest and close my eyes, willing myself to focus on the boy who actually wants me. The one who’s made his intentions perfectly clear. Not the one who just explained away his physical response as mere biology.
“All I can say iswow.” Brit appears beside me, staring down at the flowers. “You did something right.”
I smile, thinking about our night together. It may not have been how I imagined my first time to be, but Brit is right; it must’ve been amazing for him to go through the effort and expense of sending me flowers.
Any fears or concerns I may have had over my inexperience and whether it was good for him vanish as I stare down at the note. Because this is proof. For him, it was perfect. And I can find consolation in that among the hope that next time will be even better.
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I must have.”
Brit lifts herself onto the table, swinging her legs as she grins. “I need details.”
I tuck the card back among the flowers. “It was nice. Really nice.”
“Nice?” Her mouth drops. “That’s all I get? Comeon. Those aren’t ‘nice’ flowers. Those areI’m completely crazy about you and you blew my fucking mindflowers.”
I laugh, feeling a flush rise to my cheeks as I scrunch my nose. “You think?” I ask, because I didn’t feel particularly mind-blowing, so it’s a shock to hear it may have been for him.
“Girl, I don’t think. Iknow.”
The rest of the week crawls by with excruciating slowness. Between classes, study sessions, and long phone calls with Ethan, I’ve barely had time to process Sunday’s . . . incident. Not that there’s anything to process. It was just biology, a typical male response, like we agreed.
But every time I see Brandon on campus, my stomach does this weird flip-flop thing that makes it hard to breathe. Our conversations have been stilted, punctuated by awkward pauses and averted gazes. Even our texts feel different—shorter, more formal, lacking our usual banter.
By Thursday, I’m a bundle of nerves, wondering if it’s just me. By Friday, I’m desperate for a distraction, needing someone to talk to about my current situation. Normally, that person would be Brandon, but for obvious reasons, I can’t go to him. Which gets me thinking. Maybe Ethan was right when he said I need to expand my friend group and get closer girl friends. I can see now how valuable it would be to get their opinion, to have someone to validate my feelings or tell me I’m wrong. So, when Liz’s text pops up on my phone, inviting me to hang out with them over the weekend, I consider it a sign and jump at the opportunity.
It’s Saturday night when I push through the door of Bradd’s, the bass thumping so loud, I can feel it in my chest. The clubis packed with students celebrating the weekend, their bodies pressed together on the dance floor, drinks sloshing in plastic cups. I scan the crowd with zero fear of running into Brandon since the Griffins are gone for an away game. The only nerves I have are a direct result of pushing myself out of my comfort zone. Every time I’ve hung out with the girls in the past, it’s been with Brandon as a buffer. Socializing without him feels a little scary, which makes me wonder how often over the years I’ve used Brandon as a crutch.
I walk deeper into the bar, passing the dance floor when I spot them—Charlotte, Avery, Liz, Samantha, and Brynn?all huddled around a high-top table in the back corner.
A grin tips my mouth as I catch Liz’s eye, and she waves, her smile wide beneath the strobing lights as I approach.
“You made it!” Brynn squeals, pulling me in for a hug. Her blonde hair smells like coconut, and her smile is warm and genuine when she says, “We were just talking about you.”
“Should I be worried?” I laugh, unsure of myself as I settle into the empty chair they’ve saved.
“Of course not.” Charlotte waves me off before sliding a blush-colored beverage toward me. “Here, we got you a Sex on the Beach. Brandon said you like sweet drinks.”
I take the cup, trying to ignore the way my stomach squeezes at the mention of my best friend. “Brandon? They’re not here, are they?” I glance around us, worried I’d gotten the schedule wrong. “I thought they were traveling today?”
“Oh, they are.” Avery grins at me from across the table, her long blonde curls bouncing when she shakes her head. “But the bar is packed tonight, and we knew you were running a little late, so I texted Damon,” she says, referring to her boyfriend, the Griffins’ quarterback, “who then asked Brandon. Is it okay?”
I take a sip of the frothy drink, pushing down the little voice in my head asking whether Ethan would know what drink to order for me.
“It’s perfect. Thanks,” I say with a shy smile. “Though don’t be offended if I stick to just this one. After last weekend, I think I’m good on booze for the next century.”
Liz groans and scrunches her nose. “Rough night?”
I shrug. “You could say that. I didn’t get sick, but the next day, I had one hell of a hangover.”
“Well, I for one, will drink for the both of us,” Samantha says as she tops off her cup from the pitcher of beer in front of her. “Getting wasted sounds like a dream right now.”
